He Started It
by fennecfawkes
Summary: Albus/Scorpius. Albus and Scorpius explain how their relationship began to their nieces and nephews. Grandfathers Harry and Draco help. A semi-Christmas story. I so clearly did not think of these characters on my own.


Ten years on, at the Weasley family's annual Christmas party, in the giant sitting room Ron and Harry added to the Burrow a few years back, when their nieces and nephews ask how it was that they got together in the first place, Albus and Scorpius don't know quite what to say.

"This much is true," Scorpius begins, and Julian, James' son, rolls his eyes at the way his uncle speaks and always has. "We weren't at school anymore. We were both working at the Ministry, just as we are now—Uncle Albus in Spell Damage and I as a trainee in the Department of Mysteries." What Scorpius doesn't mention is how he'd always thought Al looked quite fetching in his Quidditch leathers, and Albus certainly doesn't add that he'd carefully time his visits to the prefects' baths so they would coincide with Scorpius'.

"Uncle Scorpius was horribly shy," says Albus. "He'd only speak when spoken to, and even then, he'd only say more than a sentence or two to anyone outside his department."

"Of course, Uncle Albus was outgoing as ever," Scorpius puts in. "And that's why I can say with some confidence that he started it."

"What?" Albus looks over at Scorpius, his expression and tone disbelieving. "Why on earth would you say that? _You _started it!"

"Now, that sounds like the child I know and love," says Albus' father, sitting down between Julian and his little sister Madeline. He slings an arm around each of them and they cozy up to their grandfather, waiting to soak in the rest of their uncles' story. "Go on, Albus. What could possibly compel shy, retiring Scorpius to pursue someone like you?"

"I couldn't figure that out, either, Dad," Albus says, reaching over and taking Scorpius' hand in his. "Maybe he saw something in me he wanted for himself, some kind of confidence and, oh, I don't know, swagger." Madeline and one of her cousins, Lily's daughter Aisling, giggle. Their uncle winks at them and continues, "So perhaps that's why he asked me for help one day fixing a problem his department had deemed unfixable."

"That's not what happened at all!" says Scorpius, cutting Albus off. "My department head contacted yours and had _you _approach _me_."

Albus waves his hand dismissively. "That's neither here nor there, is it? What happened next was the important part."

"And what, pray tell, could that be?" James comes over and takes a seat next to Hugo's son William.

"Uncle Scorpius," Albus says, a hint of triumph in his voice, "asked me to go to dinner with him and discuss this pressing issue."

"No, I most certainly did not," says Scorpius. "You asked me out, and it was to drinks, and it was so presumptuous that I nearly said no."

"Nearly," repeats Lily as she settles in and pulls her daughter into her lap. "Very close, I'm sure."

"Well, whether it was dinner or drinks or both, I think it was both, actually, and whether it was Uncle Scorpius or me, it happened, and somehow it ended with Uncle Scorpius tossing a drink in my face." Albus looks thoughtful for a moment before adding, "It was something fizzy. Might have been butterbeer."

"I can confirm that the drink tossing did occur," says Scorpius as all the children gathered broke into fits of laughter. James, Lily, and Albus' father can't hold back, either. "And that he deserved it."

"What'd he do?" sweet, innocent Sophia, Rose's daughter, asks.

"Again, neither here nor there," Albus says swiftly. "At any rate, Uncle Scorpius received a giant bouquet of flowers the next morning, delivered directly to his desk, and a beautifully written, truly heartfelt apology for the events of the previous evening. Uncle Scorpius ever so grudgingly accepted my apology, we had lunch together, we fixed whatever issue it was we were dealing with, I don't even remember that now, and, well, here we are."

"That's it?" Julian asks, sounding unimpressed. "Not that I'm disappointed by this, but it's not very romantic, is it?"

"What about the flowers?" Albus asks. "Those were."

"But you had to have said something during lunch," presses Madeline. "Or he did, or something."

"Oh, I know what he said." Scorpius' father walks into the room, saunters, really, in the way that only a Malfoy can. "I know because he told me, because he felt he needed permission, even at age 19, to take up with a Potter."

"Who's to say he didn't?" Albus' father grumbles, but he's smiling.

"What did he say?" William asks eagerly.

"I have to warn you, it's very mushy," says Scorpius' dad.

"Father, really, I—" Scorpius begins to protest. Scorpius' dad holds up a hand and clears his throat.

"I believe it went something like this: Scorpius, I know our fathers had their conflicts, but in time they reconciled, and think how beautiful it would be if we never had to. Think what would happen if we forget the butterbeer in the face—"

"It was butterbeer, then," says Albus.

"If we forget the butterbeer in the face," Scorpius' father continues, "and embark on something different, something worthwhile, something that could lead to something that lasts forever. Isn't that idea a beautiful one?"

Madeline, Aisling, and Sophia sigh. Julian and William try their best not to do the same, and Albus' father looks fondly at Scorpius and Albus, who don't look embarrassed, only very pleased to be sitting next to each other, holding hands.

"So, see, it was Uncle Albus who started it," Scorpius' dad concludes. "And there is no problem with that. None whatsoever."

Later that night, when they're lying entwined the way they have since the very first time they slept in the same bed, Scorpius says, "Albus?"

"Hm?"

"I thought you should know..."

"What's that?"

"My father was right," says Scorpius, cuddling even closer, his back against Albus' chest. "There couldn't be less of a problem with how you persuaded me I should be with you."

Scorpius feels Albus' smiling lips against the back of his neck. "I know," he says. "And there couldn't be less of a problem with how you said yes."

"By Apparating you back to the Ministry and tackling you onto your desk?"

"Right. That."

"Not quite as shy and retiring as everyone thinks."

"And I couldn't be happier for it."

"Merry Christmas, love."

"Merry Christmas indeed."


End file.
